


language is a program

by twilightscribe



Category: Elementary (TV), Skyfall (2012) - Fandom
Genre: Complete, Crossover, M/M, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-15
Updated: 2012-12-15
Packaged: 2017-11-21 04:33:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 718
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/593496
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/twilightscribe/pseuds/twilightscribe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Q is Sherlock's London associate. Minor crossover with Elementary.</p>
            </blockquote>





	language is a program

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by that bit from episode ten of Elementary. It was the first thing that I thought of when I saw it.

They were supposed to be enjoying a simple lazy day in bed. It was their first one off in weeks and since there was no way that they could know when James would next be off, traipsing across the world in pursuit of dangerous criminals. Q rarely took any time off himself and it had taken some convincing on James's part to get him to take this much time off.

James was absently running his fingers through Q's hair, enjoying the way it felt and how it stuck up in every direction. The comforting weight of a nude Q on his chest had lulled him into a state of relaxation that he rarely afforded himself – though there was still a gun within easy reach, just in case. Still, just having Q there was nice enough; it had been a long and eventful night for the both of them.

“We've wasted the entire morning,” Q mumbled into James's chest, voice muffled by sleep and skin.

A tiny smile pulled at James's lips, “I thought that was the point of taking time off; wasting it in bed by just being lazy.”

“You are by no means lazy, double-oh-seven.” Q's lips dragged along James's chest with feather-light kisses.

That was most certainly true. The bruises on Q's hips, the marks decorating his collar bone and shoulders stood testament to that. There were a few hickeys that Q had lovingly left on James's hips as well; they'd certainly raise some eyebrows with the next mark he slept with, if they were still there.

“I think I could stand for a bit of stimulation.” He slipped a hand down to cup Q's chin and tilt his face up for a kiss.

A kiss that was interrupted by Q's phone going off on the night stand.

“Didn't you turn that off?” James asked, lips brushing against Q's.

Rolling his eyes, Q pushed himself up on an arm and reached over to grab his glasses. He had to fumble around a little to find them, knocking a used condom wrapper to the floor before he found them and grabbed his phone.

“M said he would only contact me in a dire emergency,” Q replied. “Apparently I've accrued too much vacation time for it to be overlooked.”

Q glanced at the message and did what James would have described as a double-take. But then he dived into the drawer for a pen and notepad that he always kept there and that he subsequently balanced on James's chest as he began to write.

“I thought you weren't supposed to be working,” James said, hands sliding down to Q's hips. His fingers fit the bruises on Q's hips perfectly.

“This isn't work; it's... personal.” Q sounded distracted, like he always did when he had a particularly difficult piece of code in front of him. “It's from an old associate. I didn't think I would hear from him again.”

“Associate?”

“If this is your way of asking if he and I have a sexual history, the answer would be no,” Q replied, already having filled one page and moving onto another. He was using James as a table, not that James minded; the way Q's brow furrowed when he was so wrapped up in this was beautiful to watch.

“I wasn't aware you had any friends – outside of myself.”

“For one, I hardly think that you count as a friend considering the position we're in right now. Secondly, Sherlock Holmes does not have friends, he has associates.”

A few minutes later, a look of pride swelled on Q's eyes and his lips were quirked in that familiar little half-smirk that meant he'd figured it out. He picked his phone up again and typed something out rapidly, sending it off.

James took the phone from him and set it aside on the night stand again. His own phone was lying somewhere with their discarded clothes from the night before. There wouldn't be any further interruptions.

That smirk was still on Q's face as he hauled himself up, straddling James's hips and looking at him seductively from over the rim of his glasses.

“I think a demonstration of what you are to me is in order, _**James**_. I wouldn't want you to be under any misunderstandings about our relationship, would I?”


End file.
